


The Several (?) Days of Gifts!

by Jrade



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, F/F, Fluff, Gift Giving, Holidays, Humour, Kissing, One Shot Collection, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-22 19:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jrade/pseuds/Jrade
Summary: A series of one-shots and shorts, given as gifts to friends this holiday season! Some fics are explicitly holiday-related and others are simply there, but they should all be fun. Most have ships, some are shipless.Chapter One: Sombra had a shitty Christmas last year, with shitty gifts -thisyear, she's determined that it will be better. So, she hires a mad scientist to help. What could go wrong?Chapter Two: Sombra invites girlfriend Widowmaker over for Christmas, to swap gifts. Is it a minefield? Yeah maybe.Chapter Three: Angela has a present for Fareeha! It's a surprise! It may or may not go over as planned.Chapter Four: Lena planned ahead this year - bought Emily's present months and months in advance! Now Emily's home from visiting family, with a present of her own, and it's time to have their exchange.





	1. I Want a Reindeer-potamus for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madame_Kiksters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Kiksters/gifts), [TheSoundOfThunderstorms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSoundOfThunderstorms/gifts), [Minaris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minaris/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter's for Madame_Kiksters! They wanted something - anything - with a reindeer; so here it is! :D

Fast fingers flew across the floating screen. In the darkness, illuminated only by the holoscreen’s soft purple glow, Sombra sat with a smirk fixed on her lips.

It was nearly Christmas.

She only had  _ one _ gift left to arrange for…

...her own.

Her smirk split into a grin as a return message came through, and she swiped the screen away into nothingness with a laugh.  _ “Feliz Navidad! _ Merry Christmas to me…”

 

\---

 

It took several days. Days of sweat and toil, and much maniacal laughter.

The laughter was important.

Everybody said it wasn’t but it was.

Finally, the  _ CREATION _ was complete, and Doctor Jamison Junkenstein giggled gleefully as he danced in place, jittering with uncontrolled excitement. His eyes flickered swiftly over its form; white bone gleaming in the winter sun, shining steel glinting, and the eyes…

Currently, they were dim, but if he just threw this switch…

His hand was already on it, thick-gloved in black, but he stopped himself. It wouldn’t be prudent to open someone else’s gift.

He might have been a mad scientist - in fact, he was quite certain that he was - but he wasn’t going to be  _ rude. _

 

\---

 

Sombra’s eyes raised up the tall doors; it was an absurd-looking building, but it was Christmas Eve and she  _ definitely _ wasn’t going to be going without a gift.

Not  _ this _ year.

She raised her hand to knock at the door but was forestalled by the sound of thunder followed by a maniacal laugh.

“Come in!” A gleeful voice called almost shrilly from within the building. “Your time has almost arrived! The  _ CREATION _ is complete!”

It was around that moment - lingering at a mad scientist’s doorway, a mad scientist she’d employed to engineer her a Christmas gift - that Sombra began to consider that, perhaps, she’d gone a bit overboard.

Sure, so last year she’d only got a  _ terrible _ sweater from Gabe (which he only laughed about and pointed out that she was supposed to try it on because it was a gift), and a makeup mirror from Widowmaker (because she apparently “clearly had no idea how she looked”, according to the assassin). Doomfist had sent her a card which was admittedly hilarious with fresh snow piling in small drifts on his pecs as he stood shirtless outside of an Alpine lodge with a grin and a steaming hot chocolate, and Moira had given her a coffee mug.

A  _ used _ coffee mug. Not even a  _ clean _ used coffee mug, she’d literally just shrugged and drained her coffee and handed over the mug when Sombra had asked about a present.

So, last year had sucked - but, on the other hand, did that  _ really _ mean that, this year, in order to ensure a  _ worthwhile _ Christmas gift, she had to go breaking the laws of Nature? To employ a mad scientist to go against all that was ethical, and natural, and holy - to rend asunder the very fabric of right and wrong and to plunge cackling into the hellish madness in between? 

Just for a  _ good Christmas gift? _

Hell  _ yes  _ that was what it meant.

Sombra grinned as she shoved the doors open and stepped inside. “Yo, doc!” A thought struck her and she raised an eyebrow. “Hey uh, are you even a real doctor, anyway?”

“Well I’m not an imaginary one!” Junkenstein snapped unseen from down a hallway. “Now get in here!”

Another rolling wave of thunder, another maniacal laugh.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself with a nod. “Regretting this already. Awesome.”

As she approached, thunder sounded again, once more followed by a laugh - and again, and again, and then she started to see flashes accompanying it. Bright flickers of stark light that threw sharp shadows out of the room. The room that the “doctor” was surely in.

For just a moment, Sombra hesitated. She tugged at the lapels of her jacket, stretched her neck a little, and then stepped briskly into the room.

“Hey doc, you- what the fuck is that.”

Doctor Jamison Junkenstein, the mad scientist responsible for such crimes against nature as his eponymous Abomination, and also his seven-layer salad (which had a whole layer which was literally only Tabasco sauce. It required  _ multiple bottles) _ , sat at a worktable with a wide grin and his hair just slightly on fire, but Sombra  _ expected _ that.

Thunder rolled, lightning flashed, maniacal laughter sounded - all from within a small glass globe in Junkenstein’s hands.

A snowglobe.  _ That _ was the part she didn’t expect.

“It’s a snowglobe,” he muttered in response, poking a screwdriver seemingly randomly at its base. The next flash of lightning was much brighter, electrical arcs tearing through the air within the globe. It was about the size of an orange, and had a tiny sculpture of Junkenstein riding a unicorn over a rainbow. The lightning flew out of the unicorn’s rear.

He hit a button on the base. More lightning, more loud thunder, more laughter from some speaker on the orb which she couldn’t see.

_ “Dios mio _ that thing’s bright,” she complained, shielding her eyes from the light. “Why are you making snowglobes?”

“Well, it’s the prerogative - nay,” he held up a finger, eyes still focused on the orb, “the  _ duty _ of every anarchist to take any opportunity to undermine capitalism and the oppressions of authority, and this is my small attempt at chipping away at the monopoly which Santa has formed on the gift-distribution aspect of this commercialized holiday we now know as Christmas, ergo to decrease the hold of the monetary aspect on this season which should be so much more about community and helping one’s fellow wanderer on this long path known as life.”

He muttered the whole explanation so swiftly, so smoothly, without looking away from the snowglobe, and Sombra blinked in confusion. “Huh. Wow, that was actually uh… surprisingly well-said and-”

“Also I had a bunch of spare unicorn statues,” he shrugged, putting down the snowglobe and looking up to her with a grin and a cackle. “And if you crack the glass, the energy within catalyzes nearby hydrogen in order to set off a small thermonuclear fusion explosion! AhAHahahaHAHAHA!”

Sombra nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s more like what I expected. Anyway, uh,” she stepped gingerly around the workbench, keeping her eyes  _ solidly _ fixed on the snowglobe which rested with its base halfway off of the table’s edge. It teetered and she snatched it up in an instant.

_ Probably _ , it couldn’t really explode like a nuke. She didn’t want to take her chances, though.

“So, where’s-”

“Oh yes the  _ CREATION!” _ Junkenstein cackled triumphantly, his fingers dancing against themselves as he leapt up from his chair. “Take your position!”

“What are you-” Sombra frowned at him, pocketing the snowglobe because she wanted it.

“THROW THE SWITCH!” Junkenstein leapt over to one wall, surprisingly nimble on his one leg and one prosthetic peg.

Sombra glared at him. “What  _ switch _ what are you-”

He cut her off again though, seemingly mindless of her protests. “Mind the proton surge! Engage the failsafes!” He giggled. “Activate…  _ the system!” _

“I don’t-” Sombra made an empty noise of frustration, “I don’t  _ work _ here, I’m the  _ customer _ , so just-” She crossed her arms, frowning sternly.  _ “You _ throw the switch.”

“Oh  _ riiiiiight! _ ” Junkenstein laughed. “The  _ switch! _ How could I forget?”

He hobbled over to a panel of switches, walked past them all, and hit a button. Sombra rolled her eyes as the roof started to slide back and Junkenstein cackled and raised his arms dramatically.

_ Okay so maybe next year I just buy myself a puppy or something. That’d be cute. _

When the skies were fully open above them - bright, sunny, clear skies without a hint of cloud - Junkenstein hunched and pointed a finger at her. “Now  _ throw the switch!” _

_ “You _ throw the fuckin’ switch you-” Sombra growled.

The doctor giggled. “Oh  _ riiiiiiiight! _ The  _ switch! _ How could I forget?”

Sombra rolled her eyes heavily, groaning as Junkenstein waddled straight past the bank of switches and grabbed a large rotary valve on the wall, and spun it.

A panel in the floor opened, and some sort of wide metal table rose out of it - spread over with a sheet, a sheet which had lumps under it, and suddenly Sombra was  _ very _ attentive. Attentive and  _ grinning. _

“Now throw the-”

“Hey doc,” Sombra shot back to him without looking away, “you mind throwing that switch?”

“Oh  _ riiiiight!  _ The  _ switch! _ How could I forget?”

Giggling gleefully, he threw the switch.

Electricity crackled, the clear skies overhead swirling with sudden cloud which blocked out the sun. Junkenstein threw his head back and cackled to the sky the way only a  _ truly _ mad scientist can, and for a moment - just a moment - Sombra joined him.

It felt kinda good, she had to admit. Like she was letting something out from deep within, leaping straight from some part of her reptilian cortex out of her throat, laughing madly at the twisted skies.

The blanket began to rise. Higher and higher - it lifted until its edges left the metal table entirely. It floated like a halloween ghost hung from a tree, a sheet bobbing in midair, and Sombra’s purple eyes gleamed as brightly as her lopsided grin.

She took a confident step forward, reached out, and tugged at the hem of the sheet.

It crumpled to the floor and revealed, finally, the  _ CREATION -  _ an amalgamation of steel and bone, of machinery and flesh: four hoofed legs, a broad and powerful chest, a head made of a horse’s skull augmented with technology, brightly purple-glowing eyes deep within the sockets. Large, brilliant velvety antlers.

“It’s  _ so fucking cute!” _ Sombra gasped, leaping forward and wrapping her arms around its neck (which left her dangling from it, her legs a foot or two above the ground). It was the most perfect and beautiful cyborg Reindeer she’d ever seen - from the glowing nose to those pettable antlers (which, believe you me, she was petting plenty at that very moment, hanging by one arm from its neck), to the fact that it even  _ flew. _ “It’s perfect I love it I love it! Merry Christmas to me!”

The skies cleared up as Junkenstein flipped the switch back, frowning at it. It was labeled “storm generator” but it looked like he’d also bumped a button which had a post-it note attached, on which was scrawled, “awaken the  _ CREATION!” _

He couldn’t really tell if that was good or bad, but the day was sunny again and somebody was giggling nearby so it couldn’t have been  _ too _ bad.

Sombra squealed in delight as the reindeer nuzzled at her neck; how exactly Junkenstein had given it a normal snout when the top half of the head was skeletal, she couldn’t tell, and she didn’t plan on asking. The  _ important _ part was that the reindeer was free to mouth at her long hair, leaving her to laugh and half-heartedly bat it away.

She hugged its muscular and hydraulic neck, stroked at its flanks which were alternately fuzzy and nice smooth metal, and as she did it floated lower and lower, coaxed down by her hand and her touch.

Its hooves touched the floor with a soft clack, and there was a subtle movement as it transitioned from floating to having its weight rest upon its legs, but Sombra didn’t notice that. She was too busy laughing as the reindeer tickled at the side of her face with its tongue and she ineffectually tried to keep it away - all the while really wanting it to keep going, its soft lips brushing at her cheek as she giggled.

“It’s perfect!” She kept calling it out, not even really to the doctor responsible so much as just to the universe. “I love it  _ soooo _ much ooh what’m I gonna call it? It? Him? Her?” She laid a hand on the reindeer’s cheek, looking it studiously in the eyes.

Doctor Junkenstein muttered something under his breath, and Sombra couldn’t catch all the words, but it included the words “binary” and “farce” and she didn’t  _ really _ care anyway.

“Mmmmm… Sam. Sam the reindeer.” The hacker nodded, slowly, thoughtfully. “Works no matter what, then. Whatcha think, huh? Sam?”

Before the reindeer could respond, however - not that the reindeer was necessarily  _ going _ to respond - there was a rushing, whistling noise. Wind whipped at Sombra’s hair, at her jacket, causing her to recoil and guard her face with an arm as the sound and the wind only grew greater.

Then, though, came a sound even louder - and one that any person would recognize.

“HO HO HO!”

The deep, booming voice - Sombra squinted against the gale and peeked through the cracks between her fingers. There was a sleigh there, floating, pulled by a  _ team _ of reindeer (although they were only boring organic ones, though they were admittedly flying), and a jolly fat man holding the reins.

“S...Santa?!” Sombra dropped her arm away from her face as the wind died down, the sleigh floating a few feet in the air. The reindeer all shuffled slightly, pawing at the air - they looked at their engineered counterpart with what seemed to her to be a kind of respectful distance.

“Ho ho ho,” Santa laughed, nodding and pointing. “Yes! Santa is correct! And you, Oli-”

“Sombra,” she cut him off with a roll of her eyes.

“You’ve been very naughty!” Santa grinned, though, not like he was angry at her - he still seemed quite jolly.

Sombra, unperturbed and unconcerned, shrugged a shoulder as she inspected her nails. “Bah. I know who’s  _ really _ been naughty. I mean, maybe I’m no saint, but who cares?”

“Well ho ho ho,  _ I _ care!” Santa grinned and reached out, patting at her reindeer’s shoulder. “And, well, reindeers are only for  _ good _ girls, so-”

His hand moved almost impossibly swiftly - with some superhuman strength and ability, he lifted the  _ CREATION _ right up over his shoulder and it disappeared into a sack slung over one shoulder as he laughed. “HO! Ho ho ho HO HO!”

“HEY!” Sombra snapped, her hand flying into a clenched fist. “Gimme back my reindeer!”

“I’m sorry,” Santa shrugged with a grin, “but reindeers are only for  _ good girls _ Oliv-”

Her Translocator let her close the distance between them in an instant, materializing on the hood of his sleigh and clutching at his jacket with one fist.

_ “First _ of all,” she hissed with a finger outstretched and a dangerous gleam in her eyes, “the correct plural is  _ reindeer _ , with no S,  _ comprendé?  _ Second of all, I’ve been a great girl! I mean, it’s not like I’ve started any wars. This year. Thirdly, if you don’t gimme back my reindeer in the next  _ ten damn seconds _ I’m gonna shove an uzi so far up your chimney that you’ll think it’s-”

“Ho-ho-ho-kay!” Santa stammered, balking and cringing away from her outstretched finger. “Wow, you don’t need to be so violent about it,” he muttered, reaching back into his large sack. When his hand came out, it somehow brought with it the reindeer once more, which neighed and nickered as it pawed at the air.

Sombra leapt onto it immediately, not caring about the lack of a saddle or the likely lack of safety involved in riding a flying creation designed by a mad scientist. She wrapped her arms around the reindeer’s neck and laughed gleefully, delightedly, squealing as the reindeer turned its head to tug at the collar of her jacket affectionately with its teeth.

As his sleigh floated lower, until its skids touched the ground, Santa sighed. While Sombra flew in circles overhead, giggling and laughing, he sidled over toward the distracted Doctor Junkenstein.

The distracted doctor who held a post-it note in hand and was scratching at his head.

“Who would write this anyway?” He flipped the note upside down, twisting his head to try to read it still. “Whose handwriting  _ is _ that?” It said “awaken the  _ CREATION _ ” on it, in his own handwriting. “What’s the  _ CREATION _ anyway? Who installed this button? Unsafe, installing random buttons in a scientist’s laboratory.”

Santa nudged his shoulder with a sigh and a grunt as Sombra cackled overhead.

“I’m gonna do a loop-de-loop,” she announced brightly, gripping tight with her knees and holding fistfuls of fur.

“Here,” Santa mumbled, holding out a sucker for Junkenstein.

The scientist’s eyes went wide as he snatched it up. “What? For me?! Awesome!”

Santa nodded. “Mm. You haven’t been great, so there’s a scorpion in there.”

Junkenstein leaned in close to the sucker, squinting at it and frowning - it was square, about three inches tall and two wide, and only one inch thick; amber yellow and wrapped in clear plastic, he could obviously see the scorpion encased in the centre of the candy, looking like it was ready to strike.

“What?” He glanced away from the sucker again, to meet Santa’s eyes. “A scorpion?! Awesome!”

Sighing heavily, Santa got back onto his sleigh. Some years, he felt like he was losing his touch - but the pair of them were happy, at least, so that was something. He did like hearing childish laughter on Christmas Morning.

That was his chorus as he rose back into the air and whooshed away, sleigh being pulled impossibly quickly through the air by his magical reindeer(s) - the delighted laughter of Junkenstein licking his scorpion sucker, and the gleeful cackling of Sombra riding her reindeer.

...and quite a lot of swears being shouted his way, as well.

“Merry Christmas to all,” he called out brightly, waving his hand over the city, “and to all, a good luck! You might need it this year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love manic Junkrat? And Sombra... generally?
> 
> Happy Holidays! Hope you liked it - c'mon back tomorrow when there'll be another something up!


	2. A Brief Exception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sombra invites Widowmaker over for Christmas dinner and a gift exchange, but both are a little bit worried. Gifts can be landmines in disguise; sentiment and emotion. Lots of risk. Potentially high reward, too, though, and Sombra has always liked gambling...
> 
> ...as long as she can maybe rig the table.
> 
> Unfortunately for her, she's not the only player in the game. Fortunately for her? The other player, Widowmaker, has as much of an interest in her emotions as she does - maybe even more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to TheSoundOfThunderstorms! An excellent writer and generally cool person! They asked for some Spiderbyte including a mention of Sombra's teddy bear and, well, this is what came out - hope you enjoy!

She was a little bit nervous about it.

It had been a while, months and months now, since the two of them had first got together. That first fateful night, the action of an instant which had started something so much greater.

Everybody said you shouldn’t date coworkers, but since when did Sombra care what everybody said? She didn’t, and she hadn’t for a very long time. That all had nothing at all to do with her feelings at the moment.

It was more about the fact that, though she and Widowmaker had been involved (in whatever sense) for the better part of a year now, this was their first Christmas being shared - and if a first Christmas with a girlfriend wasn’t _already_ a worrying enough proposition, Sombra had to admit that the fact that this _particular_ girlfriend was an internationally-acclaimed and feared assassin… well, it may have been increasing her level of nervousness by a hair.

So, she was a little bit nervous about it.

For the third time in a half-hour, she swept through her house - one of several places she kept around the Dorado area. She liked being able to keep an eye on LumeriCo, and despite the loss of a certain warehouse (because of a certain less-than-friendly so-called _friend)_ , she still had plenty of places she could call home.

...so maybe she hadn’t told Widowmaker that, at the end of the day, this was _the_ place she called home. The first one. The alpha site.

There was a lot they hadn’t said to each other. It wasn’t a big deal, it was just part of their relationship - it was a _requirement,_ really, given their respective jobs and hobbies as a hacker and an assassin. Neither of them exactly kept a clean slate, so to speak, so a certain amount of secrecy was to be expected.

Plus, it was just fun.

At that thought, the ever-present grin returned to Sombra’s lips; coloured red for the season, because why not? They weren’t actually covered in _lipstick_ , anyway - like her eyes, it was a mod she could control at will to change the colour of her lips. Some people called it vanity, but it had come in handy once or twice. Distractions were always useful.

Her eyes flicked to the Christmas tree, bedecked in small ornaments she’d bought from kids in the street, or stolen from the houses of the rich - but for the most part, she sold off the latter in order to buy more of the former.

A single gift sat underneath the tree, wrapped neatly. One present for Widowmaker.

She had another, different gift to give at the _official_ Talon get-together, along with one for Reaper (an ugly sweater as revenge for last year), one for Moira (a kid’s chemistry set for ages 8-14, complete with real test tubes!), and one for Doomfist (an inflatable punching bag with Winston’s face printed on it). She’d even splurged and got presents for Junkrat and Roadhog, too, even though they weren’t members so much as occasional outside contractors - she’d bought an assortment of firecrackers for the Aussie, though, and a big huge bin of strawberry ice-cream for his portly companion.

This present, though, this one here - this one was special. _This_ one, she was nervous about, because neither herself nor Widowmaker were exactly huge on feelings. They were awkward and uncomfortable, they got in the way, they caused _problems._

With a few exceptions - a scared and frantic moment the first night they were together, with Sombra thinking her life hung in the balance; a brief soft moment as Widowmaker watched some horses - they’d stayed away from emotions in favour of merciless teasing and constant flirtation.

Sombra definitely didn’t want any of that to stop, but at the same time… it was Christmas. It felt a little crass - even for her - to not say something genuine at least _once_ in a year.

 _Christmas miracle._ She chuckled to herself, _at_ herself, as she shook her head and looked away from the present under the tree and toward the clock.

It ticked over from 7:59 and fifty-nine seconds, to eight o’clock even.

The doorbell rang, and Sombra rolled her eyes as she went to meet it. “Really, _amiga?_ You’re gonna ring the _doorbell?_ Gotta say, I kinda expected more from a big scary assassin like-”

Sombra pulled the door open. There was nobody there. Her teasing grin slipped to a slight frown.

“-you.”

The hacker blinked a couple of times, then shut the door as a chilled breeze blew through. She shrugged the whole thing off - some neighbourhood punks maybe, pulling a prank, or maybe even something else she’d just heard wrong. Somebody clunking into a streetlamp, or knocking out coffee grounds in one of the houses nearby. Something like that.

Sombra made her way back to her couch and slumped onto it with a contented sigh. It always was nice to be home, and the crackling fire in the fireplace only made it better. Holding out her hands to the warmth, she grinned, and glanced over to the tree again - a single present undern…

...no, there wasn’t.

Sombra frowned as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees - there was a _second_ present there, now, leaned up against hers. A large box that was almost a cube, and Sombra’s eyes widened as she leapt up from the couch.

Or tried to, at least.

A strong pair of hands stopped her, clamping suddenly onto her shoulders and pulling her roughly against the back of the couch; one of Sombra’s hands flew to grab at a wrist as it shifted and she stopped it from wrapping around her neck.

“Ah, _cherie,”_ the dark voice came purring softly into her ear, “you are getting faster.”

Sombra grinned, not slacking her grip at all; where would the fun be in that? “Hell yeah I am. Don’t try to act like it doesn’t turn you on.”

Widowmaker scoffed behind her, flicking her wrist and breaking effortlessly free of Sombra’s hold, her hand going in an instant to the hacker’s hair to tug her head backward. The assassin leaned forward over the back of the couch, meeting Sombra’s mouth upside-down with her own in a moment of intense passion, each of them holding a fistful of the other’s hair.

It always had been a favourite angle of hers. Perhaps due to her own propensity for hanging upside-down, but it was so _convenient_ in so many ways. No awkward tilting of the head to deal with noses, no, it let one devote the _entirety_ of one’s attention to the kiss itself.

Her hand tightened in Sombra’s hair for just an instant, drawing a slight noise from deep in the hacker’s throat before she released, gracefully leaping over the couch and landing, reclined, one arm stretched out along the back of the couch and her legs crossed at the knee. She looked to Sombra with narrow eyes and a quirked eyebrow, a tiny smirk at one corner of her lips. “So, _cherie?_ What _celebrations_ have you planned, hmm?”

Widowmaker was - as little as she wanted to admit it, as much as she would have killed _anyone_ rather than admit it to them - a little bit worried about tonight. It was a risky thing, Christmas; so much sentiment and so very easy to misstep.

There was a certain thrill to it, but this was not just the risk of failure - there was, even if it was distant and slight, a legitimate risk of _loss_ that would’ve curled Widowmaker’s lips with distaste, had she let her thoughts dwell on it. She didn’t, though. Instead, she only focused on Sombra’s outfit - an easy yet still peculiar ensemble of soft fabrics in bright holiday colours, a far cry from her normal sci-fi noir pleather and buckles.

Sombra blinked, momentarily distracted by Widowmaker’s gossamer dress and long graceful legs. “Huh? Oh.” She shook her head a little, scowling as Widowmaker’s smirk widened - that one had even been a legitimate point scored. “Y’know, got some dinner in the oven - how the fuck’d you get in here anyway?”

Widowmaker’s grin widened, teeth glinting in the firelight. “Oh, you do not expect me to so easily give away my secrets, do you?”

“So you found the window I left unlocked for you, huh?” Sombra’s eyes danced with mirth.

The assassin, though, only shrugged slightly. “Perhaps, perhaps not - you might want to inspect your brickwork, _cherie.”_

Sombra’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Now I _know_ that that’s a euphemism for _something._ ” She chuckled as Widowmaker scoffed, but her eyes flicked toward the tree. “So… you brought me a present.”

 _“Oui. Et tu aussi,”_ Widowmaker murmured in response, smirking. “I know how much you _want_ gifts.”

Wanting something had become something of a _thing_ between the pair of them - a teasing accusation, almost, and Sombra liked it. Obviously Widowmaker wanted her, that was why it was funny to joke about how stupid it was for her to want a sandwich - obviously she wanted Widowmaker, so it was funny to joke about it being dumb to want a drink.

It was Christmas, though. The whole _point_ was wanting gifts. It was an easy target.

“What, like you don’t?” Sombra shot back with a grin and a raised eyebrow. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you eyeing the tree.”

Scoffing, Widowmaker rolled her eyes - and if they flicked over momentarily to that box, wrapped in shiny red paper, then what did that matter? So she wanted something. So she wanted to open the box. To see the gift.

...she _wanted_ it, that was exactly the problem.

It was a delicate balance with Sombra. She’d become emboldened by time, made comfortable by the lack of Widowmaker shooting her recently, and the assassin couldn’t have that. She couldn’t have the hacker being _too_ comfortable.

However, she wanted that gift. Perhaps moreso, she wanted to see Sombra open _hers._

Something odd had happened that first night, some recognition that she could touch upon things denied her for years, through Sombra. Widowmaker never feared death, and she never thought she’d miss it, but she had to admit that the agony of it written across Sombra’s face had been exquisite.

All the better for the fact that the death had never come to pass.

“I want-”

“HA!” Sombra interrupted, “I KNEW IT!”

“-you to open _my_ gift.”

“Wait what the fuck?” Sombra blinked, once, then smirked and rolled her eyes. Sure, she didn’t exactly _get_ the joke, but she could still roll with it. “Oh, ha ha, good one.”

Widowmaker looked back at her levelly. “No, I am being serious.” Her eyes narrowed slightly and she held out a finger. “Do not make me regret it, but, I had thought… given the spirit of the season and all…” one shoulder rolled in an easy shrug as she looked away to the side, giving off an air of total nonchalance, “...we could make a brief exception.”

Sombra eyed her shrewdly across the length of the couch, not sure why Widowmaker was that far away, anyway, and _certainly_ not trusting her that quickly.

“They say that gifts are meant to come from the heart,” Widowmaker shrugged, still looking off into the distance. Then, though, her eyes snapped to Sombra’s and she quirked an eyebrow. “However, if you would rather I send one _into_ yours, that can be arranged - I have quite a nice collection of daggers, for instance.”

“Aww that’s nice, the personal touch,” Sombra murmured swiftly, grinning wide. “What, so you wanna see me open your present, huh?” Widowmaker nodded once. “What is it, booby-trapped or something?”

A hand flew to the sniper’s chest, her face a mask of shock. _“Cherie!_ I would _never!”_ Her mouth twisted into a grin then as she leaned forward. _“Never_ do such a thing where there was no audience to enjoy it, certainly.”

One of Sombra’s eyebrows quirked. “What, like you haven’t been enough of an audience for yourself in the past?”

Widowmaker laughed dismissively, standing fluidly from the couch and closing the distance between herself and the Christmas tree in seemingly one single gigantic and graceful step. She swept an arm low, snatching up her present with its dark green wrapping paper, and took half a step toward the fireplace. “If you do not _want_ it, I could-”

She made a motion as if to toss it into the hearth, and laughed triumphantly as Sombra leapt from the couch and snatched it up.

“Alright alright _fine_ I want your stupid present,” Sombra snapped as she sat back down on the couch. “You win,” she grumbled, grumpily, nudging her chin toward the tree.

“Ahhhh, I do so _enjoy_ winning,” Widowmaker purred happily as she picked up the other present and slunk smoothly back over to the couch. Sombra flashed her an annoyed glance but Widowmaker, seemingly not noticing, just curled up on the couch next to her and wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulders.

With a sigh, Sombra rolled her eyes and shifted a little, ending up on Widowmaker’s lap as the sniper set her present off to the side. “You’re so needy, _chica.”_

“You wish,” Widowmaker replied easily, murmuring the words softly against the warm nape of Sombra’s neck and tipping her head slightly to be able to see over her shoulder - to see the gift, wrapped, and to see Sombra’s face as well. The latter was of course as veiled as the former, no hint of its true contents displayed, but she was quite certain that as one unraveled so would the other.

Sombra tugged at the bow and the ribbon came undone easily, slipping through itself as she tossed it off to the floor and tore through the wrapping paper like a child might. Her grin was as wide as her face, red-and-green-painted fingernails flashing in the firelight as she threw crumpled shreds of wrapping paper to the ground.

It was a box, but there must have been something inside it. Sombra lifted it and shook it slightly, next to her ear. No clunks, no thumps - definite weight, though, it wasn’t _empty._ Just wasn’t anything really solid. Or it was really well-packed.

“That is hardly _opening_ it,” Widowmaker remarked dryly.

Sombra blurted a laugh. “Oh c’mon - this is half of the _fun_ , _amiga!_ Tryin’ to guess what you got!”

“Very well, then what are your guesses?”

“Mmm, Datso 301k datadeck,” Sombra tipped her head to the side, shaking the box gently again, “a new Winnaker Forge machine pistol with the optional side dovetail and extended mags, or maybe… a shit-ton of sexy underwear.”

Widowmaker quirked an eyebrow. “You mean _lingerie?”_ She grinned as a few goosebumps sprung up on the skin of Sombra’s neck, just a few inches away from her lips, and the hacker chuckled darkly.

 _“Exactly_ what I meant, _chica,”_ she murmured. Just because Widowmaker liked winning, didn’t mean she couldn’t score a point or two of her own here and there - of course, she considered a point anything she wanted at that moment. Which, at _that_ moment, had been hearing Widowmaker purr the word _“lingerie”._

It usually involved Widowmaker purring _something,_ actually, at least these days.

Sombra slit a fingernail underneath the single piece of tape which held the box closed, excitement rising in her gut - a bright almost fizzy sensation that tickled up her spine and through the depths off her chest. She flipped the box-top open: tissue paper.

Groaning and rolling her eyes, abandoning her cool pretense, Sombra ripped the tissue paper out with abandon, scattering it around until it unveiled the true contents of the box. A head.

Specifically, the head of a stuffed bear.

Slowly, Sombra reached into the box, entirely unaware of the expression which crossed her face.

She was unaware, but Widowmaker wasn’t. It was her primary focus, as soon as the tape was slit; Sombra’s face. Her eyebrows, working inward and down, some combination of confusion and disbelief - her lips which parted, tugging just slightly down at the edges. The tiny breath which escaped between them.

Sombra pulled out the bear. It was stitched out of a deep purple crushed velvet, bright and brilliant and shimmering in the firelight, just like its golden eyes. She wondered how long and far Widowmaker had needed to search in order to find a bear with her eyes. Probably a very difficult search.

Words refused to come out when she tried for them - they refused even to really come to mind. Her eyes flicked to the side, to the door of her bedroom, and her thoughts went even further than that: through the door, through the room to the far side, into the third drawer of the dresser there to another stuffed bear. One she’d carried for decades.

The only thing she had left of it all. Her old life.

Widowmaker saw the shift of Sombra’s eyes’ focus, saw the pain on her face - it _was_ exquisite, but she realized then that it wasn’t what she _wanted._

“It…” her words came softly, one hand sneaking forward to join Sombra’s, cupped around the back of the bear’s head. She let her chin rest down on the hacker’s shoulder. “It is not meant as a replacement. Rather… a supplement. An addition.”

It had taken her quite some time to earn the privilege of learning about Sombra’s bear - a closely-held secret and prized possession, a memoir of a life which she longed to leave behind yet couldn’t bring herself to abandon, not quite.

Widowmaker had never felt more similar to Sombra than in the moment she’d found all of that out.

“Ha!” Sombra laughed, weakly, once, trying to subtly wipe at an eye which threatened to spill over with tears. “So fuckin’ lame, getting me a stuffed animal for Christmas…” she sighed, leaning back into Widowmaker’s arms - pulling the bear and the sniper’s hand in tight, holding them both pressed against her chest.

Emotions were hard. It was dangerous, letting somebody into your heart like that - whether it was something as simple as admitting to a want, or something as complex as holding up a ratty old bear and confessing that it was the only thing you’d been able to save from a family as it was torn to pieces, the only fragment of a life you’d otherwise shredded up and burned as fuel to keep yourself alive.

She’d been so scared when Widowmaker had seen her bear; it had been an accident, but she’d had no choice except for to run with it and hope it had been forgotten.

It hadn’t been forgotten, it would seem. At that moment, though, Sombra realized she didn’t _want_ it to go back to being unknown.

“I love it,” she whispered through a clenched throat.

“I know.” Widowmaker kissed gently at her neck, nodding and letting the motion translate through contact rather than sight. She let out a long sigh as the hacker sank back into her, wrapping her arms tight and compressing woman and bear alike. Warm and soft, just the way she liked.

“Stupid,” Sombra chuckled, shaking her head as she wiped at a cheek with her free hand. The other one desperately clutched both Widowmaker’s hand and the bear at once. “I was cutting onions earlier for dinner, and nothing! Guess it just takes a minute to hit you sometimes, heh…”

“Of course,” Widowmaker murmured with a smirk. “Onions.”

“Yeah, fuckin’ onions,” Sombra shook her head with a laugh before turning around in Widowmaker’s lap and wrapping a hand around the back of her neck, catching her mouth in a kiss which was equal parts grateful and needy. As if it was the only way she could think to express herself; through lips and mouth and a soft moan, through fingers that worked their way into Widowmaker’s hair, through the grasp on her other hand and the gift pressed between them.

“Thanks _amiga,”_ Sombra whispered against Widowmaker’s lips, eyes closed and leaning forward until their foreheads touched.

 _“De rien,”_ Widowmaker smiled, running her free hand up Sombra’s back - gracing softly over the metal segments of cybernetic implants under the fabric there - until it found the back of her head and held her there, just gently, just for a moment.

A brief exception.

This was a better goal to have attained, anyway. As much fun as it could be to hurt Sombra, to tease her, it was a rarer delight to do something like this. To set it all up and pull the rug out from under her, and be there to catch her when she fell.

...and the smile on her lips was so wide, Widowmaker could barely comprehend it. Tears continued to flow, some of them transferring from Sombra’s cheek to hers, warm and beautiful - she’d only seen Sombra cry once before. She had been dying at the time.  These weren’t scared tears, though, or angry ones. They were happy.

“Hey, uh-”

“I will tell no-one,” Widowmaker assured, and Sombra sank gratefully forward, resting her head into the crook of the sniper’s shoulder.

“Thanks, _chica,”_ Sombra sighed. “I just don’t want ‘em finding out about the bear. That’s all.”

Widowmaker smirked. “Obviously. Now,” she cleared her throat gently, reaching over to the side and fetching her gift - Sombra remained in her position, though, and Widowmaker would do nothing to dislodge her. Not when she was so warm, and looked so comfortable. “I have my gift yet to open.”

“Oh, y-” Sombra laughed slightly, pushing herself upright and shaking her head. “Nah, it’s- never mind that, it’s not uh-”

“Nonsense, what sort of a gift exchange would it be, were I to go unrewarded, hmm?” Widowmaker looked at Sombra’s face rather than down at the present which she unwrapped by feel, fingernails slitting tape and unfolding the paper from the box - not a rip, not the tiniest tear in the paper before she balled it up and threw it perfectly into the fireplace, still locking her eyes with Sombra.

“It’s just,” the hacker shrugged, glancing down with a chuckle, “I mean it’s just kinda stupid, that’s all.”

“Mmm, quite like the one who gave it then,” Widowmaker responded with a smirk as she unfolded the top flaps of the box and startly to deftly and quickly tug out tissue paper.

“Hey! Be nice to me, I’m getting attacked by onions over here,” Sombra joked, trying to fight down the nervousness which sprung up as her hand clenched involuntarily tighter onto her new bear.

Widowmaker pulled the gift out without looking down to it, preserving the reveal, but she could tell from the sensation of touching it that it was wood. Wood with something soft trailing from sections; she frowned as she dropped her eyes from Sombra’s, down to her own hand loosely grasping the gift.

It was a small wooden horse, carved roughly by hand - complete with real hair trimmed as the mane and tail. Purple hair, in this case, which Widowmaker quite recognized the sheen and shimmer of. It was clearly Sombra’s.

“...did you… _make_ this?” Her question came out softer than she meant, almost swallowed up by the soft crackling of the fireplace.

Almost deadened to Sombra, as well, by the pounding of her own heart in her ears - but she did manage to hear. “No, I-” she swallowed and laughed, shaking her head. “Nah, uh… li’l _chiquita_ named Rosa made it, she’s uh…” Sombra trailed off into silence and shrugged.

She was an orphan, was what she was - an orphaned kid living on the streets of Dorado just like hundreds of others, and how was Sombra supposed to just ignore that? She couldn’t. Ever since she’d been forced to blow her warehouse, she had one less place to let the kids sleep when the weather got bad, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do other things. They didn’t like _taking_ money, not most of them, but getting paid to make a gift? That was something that worked out well.

Widowmaker’s thumb stroked down the horse’s neck, back along its flank; she could see every knife-stroke which had gone into its whittling, every paring down that had led it to this point. It had been a whole piece of wood, once - it had been a living thing, once, roots buried deep in the earth, and it had been killed and chopped down and cut up and ravaged, and sliced into something that was completely unrecognizable as its former self, and then carved up by some small child doubtlessly cold in an alleyway, into a little horse.

...and it was beautiful.

The proportions were wrong - the legs were too long, the neck too short, the ears too large - but Widowmaker didn’t care. She had dozens of more accurate equine sculptures, memoirs of a life which she longed to leave behind yet couldn’t bring herself to abandon, not quite - just as Sombra’s bear was.

She had dozens at various houses that were far more accurate in their depictions, far more ornate, far more detailed.

She didn’t have a single one which could rival this carving for beauty, though.

Sombra watched anxiously as Widowmaker opened it, and stared down at the carving. The hacker’s mind flew back through memories, to a chaotic but successful mission where she’d spent several long minutes with the sniper overlooking a field, and it had been the first glimpse into what Widowmaker had lost.

 _Really_ lost, that is - Sombra knew about the conditioning, how Widowmaker had come to “join” Talon and all of that, she’d looked it up and dug out the files and sometimes she really wished she hadn’t. That moment with the horses, though, was the first time _Widowmaker_ had made a mention of it, and it was the first time that _she_ was talking about what she’d lost, rather than just some information in some files.

...and now Sombra had got her a gift which could only remind her of that. In a way, the bear was kind of similar, but Sombra had _chosen_ to leave her past life behind and Widowmaker hadn’t. It was only now, watching the assassin stare down at the gift with wide eyes, that Sombra started to consider just how unwelcome a reminder of that past life might be.

A hand reached for the carving and Widowmaker flinched, instinctively tugging it closer to herself and looking up almost startled to see Sombra smiling softly, sadly.

“I know it’s dumb, it was - it’s cool, look, you don’t need to take-” Sombra was cut off by a finger pressed to her lips, Widowmaker’s eyebrows pulling closer together as she slowly, slightly, shook her head.

Golden eyes flicked down to the horse, back up again - blue lips parted, but no words came out, not for a long stretch of seconds.

There were no words. What was there she could say? Widowmaker didn’t know the words to express it - that they’d given each other the same gift, a remnant of the past but with a piece of the present, and that they’d they’d each given _each other_ as a gift as well.

After all, Sombra was the newest version of something old, but she would never eliminate what she had once been; shiny and shimmering but with a dusty echo distant, and Widowmaker? She had been made out of something else - something had been taken down and chopped to bits and she had been carved from the offal, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t beautiful in her own right. That didn’t mean she wasn’t _her,_ wasn’t whole, wasn’t something new that was entirely unlike a tree perhaps, and yet still, no less real _._

She wanted to ask if Sombra had meant it, had intended that much with her gift. She _tried_ to ask, and all that happened was that her brow drew tighter down. She wanted to ask so many things, to say so many things.

There were no words, though.

Her hand slipped away from Sombra’s lips, tracing swiftly along her jaw and catching the back of her head; Widowmaker pulled her in and said with her actions what she knew her words never could as she pressed her mouth to Sombra’s for a soft kiss.

They’d shared or stolen thousands over their time together, and every one was unique. Sly ones on missions, wanton ones in moments of passion, teasing ones designed to draw the other forward, a lure, bait on a line. This one, though, this kiss - in some ways, it was so like their first; longing and slow, not exactly hesitant or soft but perhaps… somewhat uncertain.

Not the one that followed it, though.

Widowmaker withdrew, shaking her head slightly - no, she would not be giving the gift back. No, she would not be refusing it. No, it was not stupid. Sombra, seeming to recognize this, nodded slightly with a little laugh. She let go of the bear for a moment, devoting both hands to Widowmaker’s head - the sniper did the same, dropping the carved horse into her lap and catching Sombra’s hair and burying fingers in its warmth.

Mouths met again in a rough clash; tears smeared from Sombra’ cheek onto Widowmaker’s, but Sombra didn’t care and Widowmaker only appreciated the warmth, and the slight tang of salt where those tears met their lips, locked tightly together and stifling moans which said what their words never could.

They didn’t stop until Sombra needed air - until the little gasped inhalations and hissed breaths in through her nostrils failed to be sufficient, until her lungs burned for air and she pulled her mouth away from Widowmaker’s just enough for a rough gasp of breath, fists clutching tightly at the shoulders of Widowmaker’s dress.

 _“Feliz Navidad,”_ she muttered, searching the assassin’s eyes from an inch away as their foreheads rested together. So bright and practically glowing gold, they didn’t look cold in the slightest - they were warm and almost fiery from this close.

 _“Joyeux Noël,”_ Widowmaker answered with a wide grin. That was a far better look, now, deep in Sombra’s eyes; yes, there was still a little hint of pain there perhaps. An edge of it that only served to highlight the broader joy and hunger, as she felt the hacker’s hands trying to tug the dress free off her shoulders.

“Ah, ah,”Widowmaker corrected, blocking Sombra’s wrists to stop her and grinning at the frustrated grunt she received in return. “You said there was dinner.”

“Yeah, but I wanna finish unwrapping my presents first,” Sombra muttered, her eyes dropping to Widowmaker’s dress still held tightly in her fists.

 _“After_ dinner,” Widowmaker smirked.

“Deal. Ha!” Sombra leapt up from the couch with a grin, clapping her hands together before she reached forward to pick up her new bear from Widowmaker’s lap. “Too late for you to back out of it now, _amiga!_ Now c’mon, I didn’t cut up all those onions for nothing.”

Sighing in amusement and slipping the carved horse into one of the deep pockets concealed within the folds of her dress, Widowmaker stood from the couch and followed Sombra through to the dining room. “Oh dear,” she murmured dryly through a grin. “What a trap. I suppose I should have seen that coming.”

The toying, the teasing, the playing - it had been somewhat of a constant throughout their interactions. Stretching back before they became involved, even, back to days of being simply teammates. Neither one of them wanted it to come to an end. Each, in their own way, was relieved that it all would continue for one more day at least; hand-in-hand, each of them devoting their free hand to holding their newly acquired present tight, they made their way toward dinner.

It would be a long night, but the risk was over. All that remained was enjoyment, and if it might have been a little bit different than normal, what did that matter? It was Christmas night. A beautiful night for a brief exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a follow-up piece from [One Night on the Job](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11965236) in which they get together, and also [Wild Horses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12146562) in which Sombra and Widowmaker spend a soft moment during a mission. Feel free to read 'em if you want, but I don't think they're necessary - anyway, I hope you liked it! Have a great day :D  
> Tomorrow's thing might not be an Overwatch fic actually, some of 'em aren't, so we'll see. Either way, have fun!


	3. I Am Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela has a present for Fareeha! It's a surprise.
> 
> ...she may or may not have planned it out perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: suggestive, but not NSFW (I think?)
> 
> This one's for Minaris! They gave a li'l prompt, and it led to this li'l thingy, heh - hope you like it!

“Are you ready?”

Fareeha’s grin threatened to overtake the bounds of her face as Angela’s hands stayed clamped firmly in place over her eyes. “See, if I say  _ yes, _ ” she murmured thoughtfully, “you won’t be all pressed up behind me like this, and that sounds like a shame.”

Angela giggled, planting a soft quick kiss on Fareeha’s neck and keeping her hands in place. “You’re absolutely shameless, Fareeha Amari.”

“I know!”

The doctor laughed, shaking her head lightly. “I’m going to take that all as a  _ ‘yes’ _ , then, and say you are ready, hmm?”

Fareeha let out a long and drawn-out sigh, leaning back slightly against Angela’s chest. “I  _ suppose _ so.”

She sighed a little more as Angela’s hands dropped away from her eyes, but her disappointment was short-lived as Angie’s arms wrapped around her belly and the doctor stayed pressed up against her back.

Fareeha’s hawklike eyes dropped to the base of the tree before them, quickly noting the very large present there. “That’s a very large present.”

“Yes it is!” Angela giggled softly, squeezing Fareeha a little tighter. “Why don’t you go and see who it’s for?”

“Oh, give me five guesses, will you?” Fareeha rolled her eyes with a smirk, leaning forward to pull the tag forward. Of course it was addressed to her, in Angela’s inscrutable scribble of a doctor’s handwriting. She couldn’t actually  _ read _ the word ‘Fareeha’ at all, she’d just seen it written before and memorized what it looked like when Angie wrote it. It looked more like heiroglyphics than the standard written word, and it was pretty cute in Fareeha’s opinion.

“I love it,” she murmured as she let the tag drop and leaned back into Angela’s embrace.

Angela batted at her shoulder with a hand, laughing. “You haven’t even  _ opened _ it yet, silly!”

“I know, but I love it,” Fareeha grinned before crouching down to open the present. “Alright, alright,  _ fine _ , I’ll open it.”

Truth be told, Angela didn’t need to tell her twice. She’d always loved opening gifts - and gifts from Angie, doubly so. They each had a tendency to bring back little things whenever the went on trips, to foreign lands for aid camps or security engagements, or when Angie went off to medical symposia as well - they’d always bring back something small for the other, all wrapped up. Some little trinket to hold on to in the future, and think of each other, and smile.

_ This _ was certainly no small trinket, however. The box was a few _ feet _ in each direction and probably could have held a person if they curled up tightly. It had a top that looked like it would lift right off once the ribbon was removed. Fareeha tugged at the bow and yanked the ribbon free, delightedly lifting the lid of the box.

Then she frowned, leaning forward to look in.

It was empty.

Empty, but not exactly featureless - there were two hole cut into the bottom of the box, each one about the size of a small dinner plate.

“It’s… an empty box?” Fareeha wondered in confusion, turning when she heard Angie clearing her throat.

Angela was standing next to her, looking gorgeous in a soft blue sweater and a white skirt - a skirt she now hiked up slightly, hooking a finger through the band of her panties and slipping them deftly off, tossing them over her shoulder.

Fareeha stared openly. “Okay. I don’t know where this is going but I like it.”

With a bright laugh, Angela leaned down and kissed her - just swiftly on the lips - before stepping past her and  _ into _ the box. With one foot planted through each of the holes, she tugged it up around herself and sat down, wearing the gayly-wrapped present around her torso like some sort of absurd one-piece outfit that would blow every other Ugly Christmas Sweater out of the water at a party.

Then, smiling delightedly, Angela held out her hands and happily announced, “My pussy is the present, bitch!”

Fareeha’s eyes flew wide, almost watering in an instant from two factors: how hard she wanted to  _ laugh, _ and how hard she was physically biting her lips together to  _ stop _ herself from laughing. Her shoulders heaved and her ribs ached as she tried to hold it in, tiny giggles and snickers and snorts escaping through her nose until she calmed down enough to try for some words.

She wiped a tear off of her cheek, asking breathlessly, “Did you just call me a  _ bitch?” _

Angela’s eyes widened a little as colour rose to her cheeks. “I- well, I just thought-”

Fareeha cracked up, laughing so hard she fell over onto her side, and for several moments she just stayed there. When she managed to look up again, Angela was beet-red. “Who did you ask for ideas this time? My guesses are on, hmm, D.Va or Jesse. Nah, Jesse would never say bitch - gotta be Hana.”

The look on the doctor’s face was all the confirmation she needed and she cackled again, making a mental note to herself to send Hana a thank-you card - then she sprung forward and tackled Angela softly back to the ground, catching her mouth in a deep kiss that stifled any oncoming protests.

“I love it,” she grinned, murmuring softly against Angie’s lips and staring into her eyes from just a few scant inches away. “Best present ever.”

Angela grinned widely, wiggling happily within her box - the movement only increased when she felt fingertips brush the inside of her thigh, drawing a warm giggle from her lips.

“There’s only one  _ tiny _ problem,” Fareeha murmured, still locking eyes as she traced her fingers slowly upward, relishing in the soft warmth of Angela’s skin.

“W-what would that- hee! Be?” Angela’s query was interrupted by a laugh as Fari hit a particularly ticklish spot of skin, but with every inch higher she ventured, the noises shifted from bright delight to a deeper, warmer, huskier pleasure; from giggles to gasps, from laugh to lush moans.

“Just this…  _ tiny _ little problem,” Fareeha let her voice drop away, quieter and softer as she raised higher and higher up the inside of Angie’s thigh. She was so close to the crux now - and so close to the  _ problem _ , as well.

Angela’s eyes fluttered closed, a tiny whimper escaping her nose as she pulled her head to the side, opening up her neck to entreat Fareeha’s lips there - those fingertips kept on their way, slowly moving, only two inches away now and-

...and then Fareeha rapped her knuckles against the cardboard. The section of box that Angela  _ hadn’t _ cut out, between her two leg-holes - the cardboard which separated her from her Christmas present.

With a groan, Angela pressed her head back against the floor, back arching as Fareeha laughed.  _ “Verdammt _ I didn’t think this through!”

Chuckling into the underside of her jaw, shaking her head, and returning her hand to the smooth inside of Angie’s thigh, Fareeha grinned. “No, no you didn’t - now come on.” She sat up, reaching out a hand to help Angela upright with a wide grin and hooded eyes. “I want to finish unwrapping my  _ present…” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, folks! Didn't edit this one, heh, but it's late and I gotta sleep XD
> 
> Enjoy, and have a great day!


	4. Perfect Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily's been off visiting family, but today she's coming back. Lena's got everything ready - she's had the present for _months _now hidden away in a closet! It's the perfect plan. Except for, maybe, one tiny detail.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to Wabby! Couldn't find on Ao3 to dedicate it properly, heh, but believe you me Wabby's totally a real person who asked for some Lena/Emily christmas sweetness, so that's what happened - hope you enjoy!

 

 

 

Lena couldn’t wipe the grin off of her face as she reached into the closet - under the awful Burberry coat her aunt had got her, past the thigh-high boots she’d bought mostly as a joke while drunk with some pals. When her fingers tickled against the box, she was stretched out as far as she could, head and shoulders engulfed in coats and scarves.

The thought struck her that she hadn’t been this far in the closet in _years_ and she started snickering, snorting laughter as she stretched in just far enough to get her fingertips on the box and slide it an inch closer, then another, and then she could grab it and pull it out.

A wide smile filled her lips at the sight of the thin layer of dust on it. _Dust -_ she’d had the present so long in advance that it had real _dust_ on it.

Not like last year, sprinting around town in an entirely irresponsible fashion (even for her, which was saying something) as she tried to get a scarf.

No, _this_ year, she’d bought Emily’s present early.

In March.

She grinned as she brushed the dust off, sneezing as it filtered up into her nostrils - it didn’t take long to wrap, and she got a nice, warm, fuzzy feeling at the sight of it all wrapped up.

Em was going to look beautiful in it, Lena was sure of that - she’d look beautiful in _anything_ (or out of it, for that matter), but mostly, Lena was looking forward to seeing her _smile._

Her heart beat faster as she stood and tucked the wrapped box under her arm and ducked into the bathroom to give herself one last glance-over, sneezing again from remnants of dust.

Hair, messily spiked as ever. Face slightly red from the forceful sneeze, the laughter, and warm thoughts of Emily. Clothing? On.

“Perfect,” she grinned to herself, shooting a finger-gun and a wink at herself in the mirror. “Gonna knock ‘er dead, flygirl!”

With that, Lena “Tracer” Oxton - fighter pilot, time traveller, tiny gigantic lesbian, anomaly of physics and general badass - went out to slip the present under the tree and then to wait nonchalantly on the couch.

That lasted about twelve seconds before she was feeling antsy, and started scrolling through her phone. She liked a couple of D.Va’s vids, left a teasing response on one of Winston’s statuses, did a round of a word game with Athena (which she lost, of course), and then threw her phone off to the side when she heard the key turning in the lock.

The phone bounced off of the wall and slid down the back of the couch, and Lena let out a groan as she dragged her hands over her face - that’d be a huge pain in the ass to get out later, but she couldn’t worry about it right now, because the doorknob was turning.

“Em!” Lena jumped up from the couch, closing the distance to the door in one huge leap and wrapping her arms tightly around the redhead who grinned back so wide it looked like her cheeks might just ball up and pop off.

One of those cheeks got a kiss pressed firmly to it, and it was followed by one against her lips - she giggled at her girlfriend’s enthusiasm. Lena always had been brilliant that way. “Hey, love,” she murmured against Lena’s lips, tipping her head to get a more thorough kiss as one of her gloved hands cupped the back of Lena’s head.

A happy half-squealed noise leapt out of Lena’s nose as she delightedly opened her lips to Emily’s return. Her fingers found purchase in ginger hair, and for several long and gorgeous moments they stayed much like that, hands and mouths saying all that they wished to.

“Mmm, welcome home,” Lena murmured breathlessly when they parted for air, wide-eyed and staring, and grinning. Their hands dropped from each other’s heads, Emily’s taking only a brief detour to shuck off the glove before she interlaced fingers with Lena and let herself be tugged back onto the couch, dropping a large plastic bag softly to the floor there.

“Good to _be_ home,” Emily confirmed, snuggling up against Lena’s shoulder and sighing as the other hand stroked through her hair. “I love visiting Aunty Rose, but she _can_ be a bit of a bore after a while.”

“Well, I’m sure after a few days around me you’ll be gagging for a bit of bore!” Lena chirped with a grin, drawing a bright laugh from Emily.

“Bollocks,” she murmured, lifting her head enough to press a soft kiss to Lena’s lips and stare deeply into her eyes. “Nothing in the world I want more than you, my love.”

“Awww I was totally fishing for that but it was still _really_ sweet,” Lena confessed with a wide grin and a slight blush, before an excited look overtook her face. “Oh! Hey, now that you’re back, wanna have our Christmas?”

It was January the fourth, but it was still a perfectly good day for Christmas - a plenty fine time to give some gifts, certainly. Neither of them exactly held the date in particularly high regard, nor even really the holiday, but it was as nice an excuse as any to get gifts for friends and family.

Emily, still a little breathless from the vigorous welcome-home kisses - not to mention simply from the travel back from Ireland - laughed, shaking her head. “Of course I do, silly! Just gimme a mo’ to catch my breath, yeah? And cuddle up on you, you big dork.”

Settling back in to the couch, Lena chuckled a little and wrapped her arms around Emily’s shoulders. “Aw, that sounds good - I’m just excited for it, is all.”

“I know you are, love,” Emily giggled, “you’re excited for _everything!”_

Lena beamed like it was the biggest compliment in the world, the greatest thing anyone had ever said about her, and she nodded so swiftly that it seemed like her head was about to just pop right off.

Emily sighed in delight as she sank into the embrace, letting the stresses of travel and family visits, and of being away from home and her love, melt away into those slim but strong arms. It had only been a week, but sometimes there was more to what you missed than the hours on the clock or the days on the calendar - your absences were measured in heartbeats, in thoughts, in little longings for a touch or a look.

Now she was back, though, and she didn’t need to long for anything because it was all right here. That was what coming home was about, and she always had loved this moment - whether it was herself, or more commonly Lena, who was out and away for a period of time. Whatever the circumstance, reunions were always absolutely lovely. There was this warm glow cast over the whole interaction, and she loved it.

Lena couldn’t wipe the grin off of her face, one hand wrapped up with Emily’s and the other one stroking through and over ginger hair that she smelled with every inhalation. The scent of it, of Emily, made her a little lightheaded and sent her heart spurring in behind her ribcage, her fingers tightening lightly against Em’s.

Normally _she_ was the one leaving - for a mission, or whatever - and it was a little easier that way. She had things to do, things to focus on, things to distract herself with, but when Emily went away and she was home it was just loads of phone and video games and phone and video games and phone and video games and hoping and waiting for Emily to call or the trip to be over.

Some trips she could go on, but after a certain event they referred to as only “The Meatball Incident”, Lena had decided she’d best not attend any get-togethers with Emily’s family, and Emily had politely agreed with that assessment.

Which meant she had to wait while Em was away, but she wasn’t away anymore and Lena took a deep breath of the scent of her hair and held it until her lungs ached, until they burned for release - and then a few seconds longer until she physically couldn’t stop it anymore and the air all rushed back out hotly against Emily’s scalp.

She could feel the redhead’s grin widening at that, in the way her cheeks tightened up and pressed against Lena’s arm. “I love you so much, Em,” she murmured.

“I love you too,” Emily returned with a soft giggle, moving to look up and meet Lena’s eyes.

Doing so caused her hair to shift and tickle Lena’s nose, which led the fighter pilot to sneeze. Luckily, she managed to _not_ smash her nose against Emily’s head, but she still filled her hair with droplets of sneeze juice.

“Oh _bloody…_ ” Lena sighed, dropping her chin with a blush as Emily giggled. “Bollocks.”

“Oh c’mon,” Em teased, “it’s hardly the _messiest_ you’ve gotten me!” She giggled again as Lena’s cheeks shifted a shade redder, and stretched up to kiss one of them. “S’alright love - needed a shower anyway! C’mon, let’s open those presents, yeah?”

“Mmkay,” Lena grumbled grumpily, but grinning far too much for it to be taken very seriously at all.

“Yay!” Emily clapped briefly in excitement. “Oh, I want you to open mine first! I’ve been storing it at Uncle Ralph’s for _months_ so you wouldn’t find it - ever since I went out to visit him in spring!”

“Really?” Lena laughed lightly as she stepped over and fetched her present out from under the tree. “Wow! I’ve had mine about the same amount of time, actually - didn’t wanna run the risk of a repeat of last year, y’know?”

Emily giggled softly as she picked up the bag from the floor and pulled a wrapped box out from inside it, setting it across her lap as she sat back up on the couch. “Aw, don’t be hard on yourself about that, love! Still one of my favourite presents ever, you know.”

Lena’s eyes flicked to the centre of Em’s coat as she unbuttoned it - sure enough, there was the scarf that had been last year’s present. She wore it all the time, and every time she did, Lena couldn’t peel the grin off of her lips.

Just like now.

She went over to sit beside Emily on the couch, each of them giggling as they swapped gifts - they weren’t far off in size, actually. Pretty similar weight, too; Lena’s hand felt the same upon receiving her gift as it had when she’d _given_ Emily’s.

An idea occurred to her.

_Oh no._

“Go on, go on,” Emily urged, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Open it up!” She could barely control her enthusiasm, and giggled again as the idea struck her that this was probably how Lena felt _all the time._

“Alright, alright,” Lena chuckled, looking down at the gift. One fingertip briefly traced the names, written beautifully in silver marker on the paper - To Lena, From Emily. It was a simple thing, maybe even a silly thing, but she liked seeing their names next to each other.

Then she ripped that beautiful wrapping paper right off and crumpled it up, tossing it off to the side as she looked at what was inside it - a box, like one might expect to find clothing in. She swallowed heavily, heart hammering, and flipped the lid open.

Inside was a gorgeous sweater, knit out of the softest yarn she thought she’d ever felt; it was a medium-dark green with intricate patterns of an even darker shade, absolutely beautiful - she’d loved it since the first moment she’d laid eyes on it.

Since the first moment she’d laid eyes on it… in March.

When she’d bought one exactly like this for Emily.

Lena wasn’t aware of what her face was doing - wasn’t aware of the crestfallen look that overtook it as she stared openly down into the box - but she was _made_ aware when Emily hesitantly spoke up.

“D’you… not like it?”

Her eyes snapped up to meet Emily’s - hers were wide and surprised, Emily’s were slightly narrowed and confused.

“N- I-” Lena started two different sentences, abandoning each before they even got going, her mind still whirling from opening the sweater _she’d purchased_ as a gift for Emily. As her gift _from_ Emily. “J-” she cut off again and let out a laugh, shaking her head and wiping a hand over her face.

“I love it.” She grinned broadly, leaning in to give Emily a kiss on the nose - she had such a cute little nose. “I _absolutely_ adore it, but just uh… why dont’cha open your own gift there, love?”

Emily still looked a little confused and uncertain about the whole thing, but as her eyes narrowed slightly the expression shifted from open confusion to something more suspicious, her lips curling upward just a hint at the corner as she seemed to ask, _“what’ve you gotten up to this time, love?”_

Not with her words, though - no, she remained quite silent as her eyes and her faint smirk asked the question, and Lena just shrugged with an uneasy chuckle and a grin to match it.

Lena’s present wasn’t nearly as neatly-wrapped, but Emily also took a little bit more care in the _un_ wrapping so it amounted to the same. Though the paper still ended up balled-up, she set it on the coffee table rather than tossing it to the side, and then, she flipped open the box.

Emily stared openly, not moving for several seconds before she slowly reaching into the box for a tentative poke.

Then, she started to laugh.

She collapsed in laughter, alf-crushing the box as she laid forward overtop of it, one hand grabbing blindly at Lena while the other grabbed at the sweater in her box; Lena joined in with the laughter, holding Emily’s hand tight and giving her the sweater. The redhead held them up, side-by-side.

Two perfectly identical sweaters. Two perfectly identical surprise gifts, arranged months in advance.

They both started laughing. Unable to stop themselves - they slid from the couch to the floor in a pile, in each other’s arms, a big huddled mess of heaving laughter and snorts and giggles and happy tears.

When they managed to sort themselves out several minutes later, they had no clue which sweater was which, but they didn’t care. Emily shucked off her coat and quickly unbuttoned, tugging the sweater on over her bra - Lena yanked off her t-shirt and replaced it with her own sweater, and then they caught each other in a bright, happy, giggling embrace.

“Nice sweater, love,” Emily teased, grinning so much it was liable to split her head in half.

Lena happily returned, “You too!” Then she wrapped Emily up tighter, running her hands over Emily’s back and enjoying the beautifully soft yarn, and running them up into Emily’s hair to delight in the silkiness and warmth.

Emily cupped the back of Lena’s head with one hand and slipped the other underneath her sweater, just to get a little bit of skin contact which could mean ever so much, but still allowing her to enjoy the softness of the sweater while she groaned slightly - but happily - from the force of Lena’s hug.

It felt so much like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title's a reference to the obvious duality of the gifts, as well as to the Christmas comic which inspired this all and gave us Emily - "Reflections"! So, there's that.
> 
> Apparently I have a thing for spoiling plans. Maybe it's because none of mine have worked out with le wife? Ahh, our proposal story - that one's hilarious: I devised this big huge plan, it was going to be so beautiful and cute and everything, and then she unraveled the whole thing by saying, "Sweetie, your shoe's untied." Hahaha XD so maybe that's my inspiration for spoiling everybody's plans but still having it work out really well? Regardless, I like it :D
> 
> Hope you had fun with this, folks! Working two jobs for a few days here so I dunno when exactly I'll get around to putting up another entry here but I've got a couple left to go still before the list's done! Let me know what you think, below, and have fun with whatever you get up to!


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